


The Price of Fame

by Laurtew



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurtew/pseuds/Laurtew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that John and Sherlock are an internet phenomenon, fan sites devoted to them are cropping up. What happens when they find a few? And how will they react to fan fiction that pairs them together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Title: The Price of Fame  
Author’s Name: Laura Sichrovsky  
Fandom: Sherlock  
Rating: R  
Word Count: 9321 total – 2436 for this section.  
Pairing: Sherlock/John – Pre-slash and then as a couple  
Warnings: Sherlock/John kissage and mentions of shaggage and sexual themes. Minor swearing.  
Spoilers: For pretty much every episode, particularly The Great Game, Scandal in Belgravia, and Hound of Baskerville 

**Summary** : Now that John and Sherlock are an internet phenomenon, fan sites devoted to them are cropping up. What happens when they find a few? And how will they react to fan fiction that pairs them together?

**Prompt** : John’s Blog becomes popular and gains a fan club who likes writing fan fiction about him and Sherlock and anyone else mentioned in the blog. Mostly porn. John is mortified but Sherlock is intrigued. He takes to trolling the fandom and, maybe, writing his own fics.  
Bonus if the Yard find out before Sherlock and John and are the ones to introduce them to the world of fan fiction.

**Disclaimer** : This is where I put the statement saying that I do not own John or Sherlock, (Heh! I wish!), or anything relating to the show or books. No one is paying me to do this and if you feel the sudden urge to send me gifts, you might want to talk to someone about that. Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat own all things Sherlock and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle owns Holmes and Watson. None of them have given me permission to use these characters as I have so if you have problems with the story, please send the pretzel bombs to me, not them. (Though if you could actually send a pretzel bomb to ACD, I’d be impressed.)

**Author’s Notes** : I’m not sure why, but this prompt really appealed to me. It was fun, but a bit strange to write and I’m not sure if this is what the OP had in mind. Thanks need to be given, and here is where they go. Thanks to Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat for giving me a Sherlock I can get behind. Thanks to Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman for making this Sherlock and John so amazing. I tried to fight it, but they were just too remarkable not to fall for. Big thank yous to Gemma for the super fast beta job. I owe you! Thank you to Elin for reading this over for me. And my biggest thank yous to my guiding influence and my best friend, Ann. She’s the best beta ever and the Sherlock to my John. Without her, I am nothing. (Couldn’t do it without you, love. Wouldn’t want to try.)

**A special note on the fan fiction in this story** – For the most part, all references to stories have been kept intentionally vague and have been completely invented for use in this piece. The two titles for Sherlock’s stories and the one John reads after Baskerville were made up on the fly and any infringement on actual stories is coincidence. 

There is, however, a real story that I’ve used and I owe the author a debt of gratitude for allowing me to do so. The fan fiction ($) is actually credited to Sherlock in this story. It’s the one where Sherlock and John go to Pakistan. No, it wasn’t written by Sherlock. It’s really called Rectification (and you can find it on Live Journal at the author’s page) by the tolerant and talented Yalublyutebya, who let me assign this one to him. It’s a brilliant ending to Scandal in Belgravia and I agree with John that it’s become one of my new favorite stories. You really must read it. Huge thank yous to her for letting me borrow some of her talent for this story.

I should also point out here that while these fan fiction pieces are portrayed as Real Person Fics (being written about the “real” John and Sherlock), I in no way endorse RPF or write them. There’s also a line where Sherlock says he thinks the Mycroft/Lestrade pairing is “wrong on so many levels.” I am in no way belittling this pairing and I do, in fact, read it. This was simply Sherlock’s comment on thoughts of his brother being intimate with anyone.

  
The Price of Fame   


It all starts on a random Thursday when John and Sherlock stop by New Scotland Yard to drop off some files they borrowed for a case. They’ve just come from lunch and as they make their way past the desks to Lestrade’s office, Sherlock looks back over his shoulder at John.

“I think you were right about the stab wounds,” Sherlock says, turning almost completely around. “The more I picture it in my head, the more I have to agree that it wasn’t a knife.”

John frowns, though not because Sherlock is admitting John’s right. That actually happens much more often than most people think. John is frowning because he notices that Sherlock has strawberry jam around his lips and John wonders how he missed this on the cab ride over.

“Hey, stop,” John says, pulling out a tissue. “Look at me.”

Sherlock does, arching an eyebrow.

“Doughnut filling,” John says, reaching up and wiping it off. “And some of the sugar too. How did neither of us notice this? There. It’s gone.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock replies, nodding.

There’s muffled giggling behind them and they turn to see Sally and Anderson watching them.

“Isn’t that cute?” Anderson says, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “John is such a good boyfriend, making sure you’re presentable. I’m surprised he didn’t lick it off.”

“Are you still playing that tired joke?” John asks, sighing. “You’ve used it so much that it’s just not funny anymore.”

“Oh, come on,” Sally says, shaking her head. “I don’t understand why you two keep hiding it. Everyone knows.”

“And by everyone one, you mean you two?” John says.

“No, I mean everyone. You’re all over the internet.”

“I’m sorry, we’re what?” John asks, blinking. “You mean my blog?”

“No, the fan sites.”

“The what?!” John realizes that his voice is likely loud enough to be heard two floors away, but he doesn’t particularly care. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know?” Sally asks, looking honestly surprised. “Oh, come on, you have to know. You two are everywhere.”

There’s a slight crowd gathering as some of the other officers join the conversation.

“They don’t know?” Dimmock asks, looking rather disappointed. “Damn. I lost that bet with Gregson about which screen name was John’s. I was sure he was armyfan773.”

“I…screen name? What the hell are you people talking about?” John asks in complete exasperation. 

Sally motions for him to come over to her desk.

“We’re talking about your fan sites. Look.”

John walks over to stand behind her, barely noticing as Sherlock follows him. The page up in her browser window has a picture of John and Sherlock standing together at a crime scene. Sherlock is talking and John is leaning in to hear what he’s saying. There’s a title on the page: _A Study in Love, a Sherlock/John Fansite._ As Sally scrolls down, John sees more pictures of himself and Sherlock, walking together, laughing together, there are even a couple where it looks like they could be holding hands, if you didn’t actually know better. There are little comments under the pictures saying things like, _Our favourite couple out for a stroll_ or _Our boys sharing a smile_. John blinks, completely confused.

“What is this?”

“It’s a fan site,” Sally says and John wants to strangle her for being singularly unhelpful. At his glare she gestures to the screen. “One of your internet fans. She’s put together a website devoted to the two of you as a couple. There are quite a few of them, really.”

“But we aren’t a couple,” John says, shaking his head. “And just because some crazy people put up pictures and say we are, that doesn’t make it true.”

“If you think this is bad, you should see the forums,” Dimmock says from where he’s leaning on a neighboring desk.”

“The what?” Sherlock asks and John suddenly remembers that Sherlock is standing right next to him and that this all affects him too.

“Here,” Sally says, typing again.

This time she brings up something called a community. It has message boards and discussion threads and a whole section devoted to fan fiction. John is mildly horrified. When he thinks of fan fiction, he pictures badly put together stories that have wildly diverging Star Trek characters going to bed together and he’s not sure he wants to know how it translates to him and Sherlock. He actually says that and Sally laughs.

“I’ll admit there are some pretty bad ones, but there are actually some really well written ones. If you’re going to read one, it should be this one.” She opens a story in a new window. “I rather enjoyed it. Sherlock was injured at a crime scene and you have to take care of him. As he’s stuck at home with nothing else to think about, he concentrates on you and realizes that he loves you. It was well written and the characterization was impressive.”

“You do realize that I’m sitting right here, yes?” John says glaring at her. “I’m not a character in someone’s fantasy that has me shagging Sherlock.”

“Hey, don’t put it down until you’ve read it,” Dimmock says. “It got a lot of positive feedback.”

“It got what?” John asks, feeling more and more like he’s fallen through the looking glass.

“When someone posts a story, people read it and add their comments. You know it’s a good story when it gets a lot of replies.”

“Who posts these stories?” Sherlock asks, once again bringing attention to himself. John looks at him, trying to gauge how upset he is, but Sherlock merely looks contemplative.

“A load of different people,” Sally says.

“Anyone can put up a story?”

“Well, you have to join the community, but for that you only need an e-mail and a screen name, so yeah, anyone can.”

“I see,” Sherlock says nodding. “And people then comment on what? How well written it is? The concept?”

“Pretty much,” Sally says. “Everyone likes a well written story with a solid, emotional premise.”

“And you lot read this stuff?” John asks. “About us? Even though you know us?”

“It’s interesting,” Sally says, shrugging. “And we thought you already knew about it.”

“Yeah, we really didn’t,” John snaps.

Sherlock pulls out a small notebook and a pen.

“What is the URL for this community?”

“Sherlock!” John stares at him, feeling just a little betrayed.

“We really should get an idea of what’s being said about us, John,” Sherlock says reasonably, as he writes the address down.

John just throws his hands up, walking away and muttering.

\----------------

It turns out the temptation is harder to resist than John thought it would be. Knowing there are stories about him out there on the internet nags at him and he finds himself Googling the community. He tells himself he’s simply going to read the forums to see what’s being said about them, but the pull of the fan fiction is just too great.

He starts out with the story Sally suggested and aside from being mildly terrified by a bedroom scene, he has to admit that the writing really is impressive. It makes him feel like his literary abilities pale by comparison and he’s humbled by the talent he sees here. 

He branches out to other stories and is surprised to find that there are stories that don’t pair him up with Sherlock. Some are adventures and some are friendship stories, which John finds himself enjoying immensely; he was even late to work one day because he couldn’t stop reading. He considers joining the community so he can leave comments, but something feels just _wrong_ about critiquing stories that involve him and Sherlock.

He gets to the point where he reads any of the stories that have an interesting summary, despite the rating, although he does draw the line at anything involving bondage or pain. There are certain authors he looks for, people who seem to have a knack for getting their personalities right and he finds himself all the more impressed that they can keep them in character while still putting them in bed together. He also finds an affinity for some of their writing styles, liking their word choices and descriptive talents. He gets used to the stories that pair them together, not even really minding the sex scenes and marvels at his ability to adjust to just about anything.

Less anticipated are the ones he finds that pair himself or Sherlock with other people and the ones with multiple partners. One afternoon he’s reading and his eyes go wide.

“You and me and _Lestrade_?!”

“Hm?” Sherlock says, looking up from his laptop where he’s typing something.

“Sorry. I was just reading one of those stories on this site. It has the two of us and Lestrade and I think even you can guess what we’re doing.” John frowns. “I’m pretty sure I can’t physically bend that way.”

“Oh, I don’t know, John.” Sherlock says, tipping his head. “You seem pretty limber to me.”

“Well, thank you, but I think I’d dislocate my hip if we tried this position.”

John realizes what he said and he rolls his eyes, stifling a giggle. Sherlock arches an eyebrow at him and suddenly they are both laughing. Every time John starts to collect himself, he looks at Sherlock and it starts all over again. After a few minutes, he finds himself out of breath, grinning at his flatmate. 

“I had no idea being an internet phenomenon would be like this,” John says, sighing.

“The hazards of fame, John.” Sherlock is typing again and he glances up at John.

“Well, yeah, but I seriously didn’t see this coming. Why aren’t you disturbed? I would have thought this would really upset you.”

“Why do I care what people write about us?” Sherlock shrugs. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“I don’t really know. I suppose it just feels odd, people speculating on our private lives. Are we friends, are we a couple? What are our sex lives like?”

“People were doing that long before your blog caught on.” Sherlock smiles at him. “I think you said the phrase ‘I’m not his boyfriend’ about six times in the first twenty-four hours you knew me.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“It was less anonymous. I knew the people who thought we were shagging.”

“And that makes it better?”

“I see your point,” John says, frowning. He shakes his head. “I can’t say my life has been boring since I met you. If I got used to that, I reckon I’ll get used to this. Though, I’m not sure what that says about me.”

Sherlock just smiles at John and goes back to typing.

\------------------

A few days later, John sees Sherlock frowning at his laptop screen.

“What’s the matter?

“Story,” Sherlock says, his expression going darker.

“About?” John is concerned at how upset Sherlock seems.

“The pool.” It’s only two words, but the haunted look in Sherlock’s eyes speaks volumes.

“Really?” John is surprised. “What about it has you so bothered?”

“The bomb went off and you knocked me into the water to save us.” Sherlock looks up at John, thoughtfully. “Would that have worked?”

John thinks about it.

“It might have. The water would have likely protected us from the blast if we’d gotten under before it hit us.”

“Was that your plan?” Sherlock asks curiously.

“I actually hadn’t gotten that far,” John admits. “I was still stuck on the fact that we had multiple sniper rifles trained on us.”

But as he stands, looking at Sherlock, John is mildly overcome by a wave of affection for the man who assumes that John _had_ a plan. Such genuine trust from Sherlock Holmes is humbling. 

Sherlock’s scowl gets more pronounced.

“What?”

“You were injured protecting me.” Sherlock looks so distressed that John feels the need to intervene. 

“Sherlock, I’m right here,” John says gently. “And that didn’t really happen.”

“But it could have.” Sherlock is obviously upset.

John almost says that it really couldn’t have, but he realizes that if it had come to it, he would have done his best to keep Sherlock safe, even at the expense of his own life. He wonders for a minute what that means, but Sherlock’s agitation pulls him back.

“But it didn’t,” John reiterates, reaching out to touch Sherlock’s hand.

When Sherlock smiles up at him, John’s heart beats a little faster, but he refuses to analyze why.

\----------------------

A couple of weeks later, John actually starts to dream about the stories and he finds that a bit disturbing. There is something odd about waking up, gasping, heart pounding from an adventure that only happened in someone else’s imagination. At first it’s just the case related stories, taking them to exotic locations or putting them in impossibly dangerous situations, but then it branches out to other genres that don’t involve certain death.

John is more than a little unnerved when the dreams take a lurid turn. He tries not to think of the implications when he dreams of Sherlock bending him over the sofa, his delicate hands running riot over John’s heated skin. He wakes up half hard, biting back a moan, and promises himself that he won’t read anything with a rating above R anymore.

\------------------

Things change between John and Sherlock after Irene Adler, but then, so do the stories. He’s slightly awed that their fans are devoted enough to keep up with these things. John’s favorite stories are the ones where Sherlock chooses John over Irene, but he can’t bring himself to look at why. 

After Sherlock admits that he knows Irene is dead, John posts to his blog about it and that leads to a spate of stories where he comforts Sherlock over it. John’s not sure how he feels about those ones. There is one that becomes his favorite, though. It has John and Sherlock going to Pakistan to save Irene. ($) Afterwards, she gives Sherlock information on Moriarty and Sherlock then dismisses her, and turns all his attentions on John. It ends in a very heated bedroom scene, although John finds he can very much live with that. John feels a bit guilty when he bookmarks it after reading it for the third time. But he’s still caught off guard when he dreams it two nights in a row, waking up hard and desperate, finishing himself off in the dark with Sherlock’s name on his lips. 

He can’t deny that his feelings for Sherlock are changing and he can only wonder how the hell he got here.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, did you read the latest story by SJComposer76?” Sally asks, walking up to stand next to John as he watches Sherlock examine a body.

“I’m sorry?” John says, arching an eyebrow.

“Don’t play stupid with me. You don’t have the face for it.”

John’s not sure if that’s a compliment or not and he can’t stop a slight smile. Sally shakes her head at him.

“You read the site. I know you do.”

“And if I do?”

“I’m not making fun of you, John. I really wanted your opinion.”

John laughs at the absurdity of this conversation.

“You want to know what I think about a story that has me shagging my flatmate?”

“I wanted your opinion on the writing. It’s a new author who has only been writing for a few months. But I liked the style.”

“Which story is this?” Dimmock asks, walking up.

“The new one by SJComposer76.”

“Is that the one where John saves Sherlock from falling off a cliff?”

“Right,” Sally says. “But Sherlock hits his head and while he’s out of it, he tells John he loves him.”

“You know, that one was actually pretty good. I’ve added the author to my favorites list.”

“Is that the same writer that did the story where I was shot saving Sherlock and he thinks I’m dying so he tells me how he feels?” John asks, frowning.

“Yes.” Sally nods. “And they did the one where you and Sherlock go to Pakistan to save that woman.” ($)

“Right. I really enjoyed that one.”

John hears a quiet snort come from Sherlock and he suddenly realizes how insane this conversation really is. He shakes his head wondering when his life became all about shagging Sherlock, fictional or chimerical and he moves over to kneel across from Sherlock, leaving Sally and Dimmock discussing other stories.

“Sorry about that,” John says quietly.

“About what?” Sherlock looks up at John, quirking an eyebrow.

“That discussion. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“What makes you think you did?”

“Nothing,” John says, trying to gauge Sherlock’s reaction. “But it must be strange for you to hear people so casually discussing…us, in a romantic context.”

“John, you know I’ve read the stories on that site. I’ve even read a couple of them out loud to you.”

“Yeah, but those were the friendly adventure ones. And that’s different from me standing over there chatting about it with other people.”

Sherlock smiles at John.

“I appreciate you trying to protect my sensibilities, John, but you needn’t worry. I trust that you aren’t making fun of me or trying to humiliate me. And I remind you that you are in these stories as well. If anyone should be mortified, I would think it would be you.”

“Why would you say that?” John asks, frowning.

“You have to spend half your time reiterating that you are not, in fact, gay, and all these stories do pair you with me. Not only am I not your preferred gender, but really, John, if you were to pick a male sexual partner, I cannot envisage any scenario where it would be me. You have better taste than that.”

“Don’t do that,” John says, shaking his head. “Don’t put yourself down like that. You might not be everyone’s first choice for a boyfriend, but anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Even you?” Sherlock asks, a teasing smile playing around his lips.

“We’d have to negotiate that,” John says, his expression very serious. “You do, after all, steal my things and drink all the milk.”

Sherlock stares at John for a minute, then they both break out into helpless laughter, completely ignoring the odd looks they get from the police.

Later that night, John tries not to replay that exchange as he’s going to sleep. _This_ is decidedly different than stories and he knows it’s crossing a huge line to wax romantic over actual encounters with Sherlock. But as much as he tells himself this, he can’t seem to help himself and he falls asleep reliving the sound of Sherlock’s laughter.

\--------------------

John shuts the lid to his laptop, shaking his head. He gets up and starts pacing the sitting room, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. This has got to be the most ludicrous moment of John’s entire existence. He’s actually angry over a story.

And oddly, it’s not the fact that he’s livid over fiction that makes him feel foolish, but rather the reason for his ire. It wasn’t the plot and it’s not even the requisite sex scene. What has John swearing under his breath is who is involved in the sex scene. This story pairs Sherlock with Lestrade and while John didn’t think anything of it when he started reading, it became something entirely different when he actually read the first kissing scene.

When he saw the description of Lestrade’s tongue in Sherlock’s mouth, something angry and possessive rose up in John and irrationally, he fought the urge to call Lestrade and tell him to keep his hands off Sherlock. John would laugh at himself if it wasn’t all so completely pathetic. 

He has no idea when his feelings for Sherlock changed but he can’t deny that they have. He’d pretend he doesn’t know why, but that’s a complete lie. Somehow, by reading how other people see them, John’s been able to clarify for himself how _he_ sees Sherlock. It seemed only natural when reading something that struck John as wrong, to think, “Sherlock would never say that. He’s too controlled.” or “Sherlock’s too brilliant to make that mistake.” Rather like Sherlock says he does at crime scenes with John’s failed deductions, people’s false conceptions of Sherlock allow John to focus on what he knows and loves about the man more clearly. Sherlock has gone from being a friend, colleague, and mad flatmate, to an amazing, brilliant, funny, charming, engaging, damn sexy man and John has to admit he’s lost his heart along the way.

Not that it matters, because Sherlock is still Sherlock and the only way he’d ever notice John as more than a skull replacement would be if John was a victim at a crime scene. But John is used to wanting things he’ll never have and this isn’t any different. As long as he has Sherlock in his life in some way, John is happy, though he does make a mental note to check the pairing on any story before he reads it.

He just hopes he can keep from glaring the next time he sees Lestrade.

\-----------------------------

“Do you have a screen name yet?” Sally asks, looking up from her clipboard.

“On the community?” John asks. He’s kneeling next to the body of a woman in a back alley, examining the bruises on her arms. Some part of John’s mind wonders what it says about him that he knows exactly what Sally is talking about. “Why would I get one?”

“So you can add comments? Or maybe put up your own stories?”

“You don’t think there’d be something weird about commenting on stories about myself? And what would I say? ‘I would never shag Sherlock that way. We much prefer it with him behind me.’ Which was sarcasm, by the way,” John says when Sally arches an eyebrow. “We don’t prefer it any way, because we aren’t sleeping together.”

“It might be odd if people knew it was you, but how would they? You just get a screen name that has nothing to do with you.”

“But I’d know it was me.” John shakes his head, trying to put his feelings into words. “I’ve gotten used to reading these things and honestly, they don’t really bother me. It’s kind of cool to be a character and get to live out these adventures. It’s like having my own personal storybook. But if I start commenting on them…I don’t know, maybe that makes them more…”

“Real?” Sally asks.

“I was going for personal, but yeah, that too. And then I have to take a look at what I’m saying about my life and Sherlock.”

“What are you saying about Sherlock?” Sally asks, arching an eyebrow at John again.

John doesn’t take the bait. He shakes his head and laughs.

“That my crazy flatmate will have a fit if I don’t have my observations ready when he gets here.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say fit,” the deep voice drawls from behind him. “I haven’t had a full blown fit since I shot the wall.”

“You couldn’t have told me he was there?” John asks, rolling his eyes at Sally.

Sherlock kneels down next to John.

“Do you have a cause of death for me or should I take another stroll down the street?” Sherlock’s tone is sarcastic, but John sees the amusement in his eyes.

“If you aren’t nicer to me, I’ll make you wait for Anderson’s report,” John replies, fighting a smile.

“You wouldn’t dare! I won’t be responsible for my actions if you do.” Sherlock grins at him. “Seriously, John, how did this woman die?”

John chuckles. He thinks he should be surprised how natural all this feels, how domestic their interaction is, which is odd, considering it’s a crime scene and there’s a dead woman. But their relationship has never been normal and friendly banter over corpses is typical for them. 

John looks up to see Sherlock full on smiling at him and he’s struck by how amazing Sherlock looks, relaxed and happy, his hair wind blown, his eyes sparkling and if John had any doubts that he’s lost his heart to his mad flatmate, they are resolved right this second. John probably stares just a little too long, because Sherlock’s eyebrow goes up and he tilts his head in a question.

“Right,” John says, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. He looks down at the body. “She’s been dead about seven hours and she was strangled.”

John goes on and Sherlock nods in approval as he follows all of John’s observations and John tries not to feel so pleased about it.

\---------------------------

Things become a bit strained between them after the Baskerville adventure. John wants to put all the blame on Sherlock, but if he’s honest, he knows that’s not true. Yes, Sherlock did think he was drugging John and he left him alone and scared just to prove a theory, but John left Sherlock alone and scared too. It just took him longer and a very blunt piece of fan fiction to realize it. 

About a week after his blog post about the Hound, John is skimming through fan fiction descriptions on the community when he comes across one called, _I thought You Were My Friend_. The summary says that it’s Sherlock’s thoughts about the argument they had in the pub and John finds himself intrigued. 

What he reads has him frowning and wondering how close to the truth the writer got. It starts before John sits down to talk to Sherlock, having Sherlock worried and doubting himself. When John arrives, Sherlock admits to seeing the hound and being frightened and John, not really knowing how to deal with it, tries to calm him with logic. But, just as in the real incident, logic didn’t work and Sherlock gets more and more upset until he lashes out at John. John gets upset and says angry things back and walks out, leaving Sherlock to deal with his emotional upset on his own.

It wasn’t exactly what happened, but it’s close enough to make John feel guilty. Did he abandon Sherlock when he needed John the most? John looks across the room to see Sherlock sitting on the sofa, typing on his laptop. He can’t stop himself from asking.

“Sherlock?

“Hm?” Sherlock looks up, his expression quizzical. After a second, his eyes grow concerned and he frowns. “John, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing…just…” John pauses, not sure how to go on.

“Story?” Sherlock asks.

“How did you…”

“You’re on you computer, but you aren’t typing, so you aren’t updating your blog or sending e-mail. You prefer to get your news from the paper and the television, so you wouldn’t be reading news sites. For you to sit that long reading, you must be on the fan fiction site.”

John nods, not sure how to respond to that. Sherlock tips his head, looking at him.

“Which story has you that upset, John?”

“It’s…the one about our fight in Dartmoor.”

“Ahh. That was oddly accurate. I do wonder how these writers know so much about our lives. Not all of that information was on your blog, you know.”

“So it was right?” 

“Which part?”

“About how you felt?”

“Oh, that. A bit, but it wasn’t really relative to the case.”

“I know, but…” John looks at Sherlock, trying to understand what his friend is feeling. “Did I hurt you that night? By walking out like that?”

“I hurt you first, John,” Sherlock says quietly. John notices that he didn’t answer the question.

“I didn’t…I just…”

“I know, John. I shouldn’t have intimated that you weren’t my friend.”

“But that’s how you felt right then, didn’t you?” John asks, suddenly understanding. “You expected me to know what was wrong and help you and I left you.”

“I was being irrational and I lashed out at you, which really wasn’t fair.”

“But I wasn’t really being fair either, was I? You were frightened and confused and I thought you needed a mental reset, so I dismissed you and tried to send you to bed.”

“You tried to calm me down, John. You know I work by logic and you tried to reassert my logic for me. I was just too unsettled to realize that.”

“I should have understood that. But I’m just so used to you being unemotional that seeing you driven by emotions threw me.”

“I know, John. I don’t blame you.”

“But you were hurt by my walking out, weren’t you?”

“A bit. But I completely understand, John.”

“I’m sorry,” John says quietly. “I was hurt when you said that I wasn’t your friend, after everything we’ve been through. But I should have understood that you said it because that’s how you felt right at that moment, not because you were trying to offend me.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, John,” Sherlock says, his expression very serious. “But I appreciate that you care enough to do so.”

“Of course I care,” John says indignantly. “Probably more than you’d like me to.”

John almost panics for a second, thinking he might have revealed more than he wanted to. But Sherlock merely smiles.

“You might be surprised, John. I’ve come to appreciate your companionship.”

“Well, good, because I’m not planning on going anywhere.” He looks down at his laptop. “It’s really disturbing that it took me reading a story to understand what happened.”

“It is rather disconcerting that the fan fiction has taken such prominence in our lives. Though I think I’m more troubled that these ‘fans’ know so much about us. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they’ve hacked into Mycroft’s security system.”

“I suppose that’s better than thinking Mycroft is writing some of these stories.”

“You had to say it, John, didn’t you?” Sherlock makes a face. “You know I’m going to be thinking about that the next time I read one, don’t you?”

“Keep that in mind if you ever read the Mycroft and Lestrade pairing,” John says, fighting a smile.

“That is wrong on so many levels,” Sherlock says, shaking his head. “I can’t even think about Mycroft…no. And you are horrible for putting that image in my head. I hope I can delete it before I talk to Lestrade again.”

John chuckles as Sherlock goes back to typing. He definitely feels better about things between them and he fights the urge to register on the site and leave a thank you note.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few months, things settle between John and Sherlock and there’s a comfortable domesticity at Baker Street. They work on cases and chase criminals and argue over whose turn it is to buy the milk and John feels like his life is perfect. He can now freely admit to himself that his feelings for Sherlock are much more than friendly, but he’s okay with knowing they’ll never be returned as long as he and Sherlock are getting along this well.

John keeps his blog updated and keeps up with the latest stories on the site. Everything goes along as normal until one early spring afternoon. John comes home from the surgery to find the flat empty. He frowns and sends a text.

_Where are you? – J_

_On a case – S_

_Do you need my help?_

_No. Almost done. Be home in a couple of hours._

John nods, even through he knows no one can see it. He makes some tea and settles in to check his e-mail and update his blog. He’s putting together the last case they did with the metallurgist and life guard who helped him smuggle precious alloys overseas. It should make for some entertaining reading. He’s just typed the title; _The Adventure of the Copper Beaches_ , when he realizes that he’s missing some facts. John frowns. He should be able to find the information he needs on Sherlock’s laptop.

He feels like it might be a violation to go into Sherlock’s room and look, but then, Sherlock is always getting on his computer. And it is so he can type up a case. He’ll be quick about it and he’ll tell Sherlock when he gets home. Feeling better about that decision, he goes to Sherlock’s room. Sherlock’s laptop is on the dresser. He doesn’t have it password protected, citing that no one ever gets on it but him, though John is pretty sure it’s because he’s too lazy to be bothered. John had tried to explain privacy protections to Sherlock, but right now, he’s glad Sherlock ignored him.

John flips up the lid and the screen glows to life. There’s a text document open, but John minimizes it, going for the folder with Sherlock’s case files in it. He’s just clicked that open when his mind finally catches up with him and he blinks. John’s brows come together as he mulls over what he thought he read and where he read it. Just a fragment of a phrase, really. _Sherlock dragged his tongue along John’s collarbone and…_ Where the hell had that come from? 

John pushes the back button to show a list of folder options, but those words aren’t here anywhere. John frowns and looks at the text document. He hesitates a minute, then brings it up. His eyes go huge as he realizes what he’s reading.

_Sherlock pulls John closer, kissing him deeply. He cannot get enough of John’s soft lips and the amazing little moans that John makes. Sherlock breaks the kiss, looking down into John’s eyes._

_“I love you so much. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tell you that.”_

_“Why haven’t you?” John asks, reaching out to stroke Sherlock’s face._

_“And risk losing you? No one has ever loved me, John and I would rather have you as a friend, then not have you at all.”_

_“I would never leave you, Sherlock.”_

_“Why not? Everyone else has. I’m…I’m not the man people fall in love with. When they see who I really am, everyone leaves._

_“I’m not going anywhere,” John says, pulling Sherlock against him. “I love you, so you might as well get used to it.”_

_“Anything for you, John,” Sherlock whispers, leaning in for another kiss._

John stands there, not knowing what to do. This is just like the writing on the fan site. John might even dismiss it as something Sherlock was reading from there, except this story isn’t finished yet. That can only mean one thing and John just cannot get his mind around it.

He goes to the start menu and pulls up Recent Documents, right clicking on something called “John’s Smile”, telling the computer to bring up the file location. What he finds is a folder labeled, “Stories.” John’s eyes go even wider when he sees how many of these files have names that involve “John and Sherlock.” Taking a deep breath, he opens one.

There’s a header at the top, denoting the name of the story, the rating, the pairing, and the author. He can see he is reading something called, _I Only Have Eyes For You_ that’s rated NC-17, with a Sherlock/John pairing, written by SJComposer76. John is only mildly surprised when he sees the name of the author; he’s actually surprised he didn’t pick up on it before. John prepares himself and starts to read the story.

When he’s done, John skims through most of the stories in the folder. Some of them he recognizes, including the Pakistan story. ($) They all have the same author and very similar themes. In each one, Sherlock harbors feelings of love and longing for John. In the end, Sherlock gives himself away and John figures it out, declaring his love for Sherlock. They fall in bed together and live happily ever after; or at least John assumes they do, as the stories usually leave them snuggling and content.

He’s just opening one called _I Would Move Heaven and Earth for You_ when he hears the front door open.

“John?” 

John’s first impulse is to close the computer and leave, but that’s not going to solve the problem, so he pulls his courage around him.

“I’m in your room.”

“What are you doing in here?” Sherlock asks, walking in and pulling his coat off.

He looks over to see John standing in front of the computer. Taking in the open document, Sherlock freezes, his eyes going wide. He swallows hard and looks at John, his eyes wildly searching John’s face. John makes his expression as blank as possible.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” John asks quietly.

“I…John…I…” Sherlock stares at him helplessly, his expression desperate.

“You’re writing stories. About us? Shagging?”

“John…I…”

“And you’re putting them up on that fan site?”

“Yes, but…”

John feels a sudden flash of anger. He knows that Sherlock will do just about anything to collect data, but this? Writing romantic stories about the two of them just to test the reactions of people he’ll never meet?

“Go over well, did they? Did you get a lot of positive feedback?” John can hear the condemnation in his voice, but he doesn’t care. He’s developed feelings for Sherlock and this feels like a betrayal of trust, like Sherlock is making fun of John. “You’ve done a lot of things to embarrass me Sherlock, but this is crossing a line.”

“No, John, it’s not like that.” Sherlock takes a step towards him, his hand out.

“Really? Then tell me what it’s like, Sherlock. Because right now it looks like you’re making up stories about us and posting them on the internet.”

“I…well…” Sherlock stops, looking at John with huge eyes. “Well, yes, that is…but…”

“God, Sherlock. I knew you would do just about anything as an experiment, but this?”

“John, please.”

John is angry, hurt, and embarrassed. He wants to lash out and hurt Sherlock, maybe purge his own emotions in the process. How could he let himself fall for someone so callous?

“Please what? Please don’t be upset that you used me again? Don’t be upset that you hid something else from me? Don’t be angry that my friendship means so little to you that you use me as a character in a story just to study people’s reactions?”

“John, I…” Sherlock shakes his head, looking away.

“You couldn’t have picked Lestrade to write about? Used him to test your theories?”

Sherlock’s head comes up, his eyes wide and hurt. His jaw clenches and he glares at John.

“Do you think I could write like that about just anyone? That I feel this way for Lestrade or Dimmock or anyone else? This wasn’t an experiment. This was you, John. I was writing what I …” Sherlock breaks off, a look of utter panic on his face. He shakes his head and runs from the room.

His anger robbed of a target, John stands there, his mind trying to process what he just heard. If he isn’t getting it wrong, Sherlock has just admitted that what he wrote about is really what he’s feeling. John blinks as he hears the front door slam and he realizes that Sherlock must have left.

John frowns, something nagging at the back of his brain. He turns back to the computer, scanning over the story he has up. After he finishes, he goes back over some of the ones he’s already looked at and something starts to stand out. The plots of all of these stories involve Sherlock being in love with John, but there is another underlying theme John missed the first time through. In almost every story, Sherlock doesn’t think John could ever love him, that anyone could. He’s a freak, crazy, unlovable, and lonely and then John comes along and Sherlock falls hopelessly in love with the one person who sees something good in him.

John shakes his head, understanding that _this_ is how Sherlock honestly feels. His caustic comments and rude demeanor are a defense against the rejection Sherlock knows is coming. John already knew that, he just wasn’t aware of the extent of the damage. In these stories, Sherlock is telling John that in his life, literally no one has accepted or cared for him until John. The real John is pretty sure that this is because no one else ever gets to see the Sherlock that he does, and that thought brings its own brand of humble. Sherlock has trusted John with friendship and affection and he’s never asked John for more, even though he apparently would like to. How John ever won such loyalty from such a guarded man, he’ll never know, but now that he understands exactly what it means, he feels both privileged and unworthy.

There’s something surreal in knowing that the man he’s been falling in love with has felt the same way about him for a while. They really need to talk about this. And then it hits him that he’ll have to find Sherlock first because John let him run away. John sighs, pulling out his phone.

_Are you okay?_

He waits a couple of very long minutes and when he receives no reply, he tries again.

_I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you._

_Where are you?_

_Come home so we can talk?_

_Please?_

Now John starts to worry. He runs down the stairs, grabbing his coat from the hook. He has no idea where to start looking, but he can’t just sit in the flat while Sherlock is out there thinking John hates him. He starts forming a plan that involves calling Lestrade, but he’s pulled up short when he nearly trips over Sherlock, who is standing just outside the front door.

“Oh, thank God,” John murmurs, following his momentum into hugging Sherlock. Sherlock stiffens, standing completely still. John lets him go, taking a step back. “Where have you been?”

“Walking. Thinking.” John looks up at Sherlock and he frowns when he sees that Sherlock’s emotional walls are back up and his eyes are expressionless.

“Come up stairs,” John says gently, touching Sherlock’s arm.

“I’d rather not, Doctor. I was stopping by to pick up a few things. Will three days be sufficient for you to move your belongings?”

John blinks.

“What are you talking about?” When Sherlock doesn’t answer, John sighs. “Seriously, come up stairs so we can talk.”

“I…can’t.” Sherlock’s jaw is clenched and he’s staring at a spot just over John’s left shoulder. 

“Can’t?”

“I won’t listen to you tell me our living arrangement isn’t working,” Sherlock hisses. “And I cannot watch you pack your things and leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” John says quietly. 

“You expect me to move.” It’s not a question and Sherlock’s shoulders go stiff. “Why should I have to leave Baker Street?”

“You don’t.” John sighs. “Neither of us is moving, Sherlock. Can we please go up and discuss this without an audience?”

Sherlock looks at John, his expression confused and wary and John just wants to hold him. When Sherlock still doesn’t move, John takes a step closer.

“You really don’t think anyone could love you back, do you?” John whispers. Sherlock’s whole body goes tense and John shakes his head. “You’re wrong, you know. And I really don’t think a public street is the place to discuss my feelings for you.”

Without looking back, John turns and walks into 221. He hangs his coat back on the hook and is just settling into his chair when he sees Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. Sherlock stands uncertainly in the doorway, looking puzzled and distressed. John gestures to the sofa and Sherlock slowly walks over and sits down.

“It wasn’t an experiment,” Sherlock whispers.

“I know.”

“I…it gave me a way to deal with my…” Sherlock waves his hands about and John nods. “It made it easier. I could say things to you without you…you were never supposed to know.”

Sherlock looks down at the floor, his whole demeanor that of a man waiting for the blade to fall. John sighs.

“And what about my feelings?”

“I never mean to hurt you, John.” Sherlock’s voice is so quiet that John has to strain to hear him.

“I know, Sherlock. I wasn’t talking about that. I meant my feelings towards you.”

“Would they be classified as homicidal rage or profound disgust?” Sherlock’s tone contains so much self deprecation that John frowns.

“Why do you do that? Why do you assume that people are going to have negative reactions to you?”

“Because they usually do.”

“Do I?” John asks, tipping his head.

“No, but I expect that’s changed after today.”

“Why? Because I saw how you really feel about me?”

“Because…” Sherlock breaks off, looking away and shaking his head. “God, John, how can you even look at me, knowing what I dream about?”

“It’d be rather hypocritical of me to condemn you as I’ve been dreaming the same things lately.”

Sherlock goes rigid, and John sees his fists clench.

“I don’t want your pity.” Sherlock’s voice is barely controlled.

“Look at me,” John says quietly. “You can read my intent from a single glance. Tell me, is what you see really pity or are you afraid to admit that I might return your feelings.”

“I…” Sherlock blinks, looking completely off balance. “How could you?”

“How could I not?” John says, smiling. “I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you ages ago. I was just too insecure to admit it. But reading that fan fiction, seeing us from an accepting viewpoint, seeing you, knowing how amazing you are, it all became clear. All I want is you.”

Sherlock is watching John with wide eyes.

“John, I…” He breaks off, biting his bottom lip.

“Did you mean what you wrote?” John asks.

Sherlock nods.

“I did. John, I…you…”

John smiles at him.

“I know. It must have been like a release valve for you, writing those stories.”

“It was. I got to write what I dreamt about and tell you all the things I felt for you without worrying about losing you. I’m sorry. I should have thought about how you’d feel if you ever read them.”

“I’ll admit I was a bit thrown at first,” John says, nodding. “But that’s because I didn’t think you could feel that way about me. I thought it was an experiment or a joke.”

“I’d never do that too you, John.”

“Says the man who thought he was putting spiked sugar in my coffee.”

“That’s different,” Sherlock says, waving his hand dismissively. “That was science, but this…I wouldn’t hurt you that way.”

John gets up and moves to sit next to Sherlock on the sofa. He reaches out and takes Sherlock’s hand.

“So, what do we do now?” John asks gently.

“About what?”

“This…us.”

“What do you want to do?” Sherlock asks, his voice just above a whisper.

John smiles, looking at Sherlock, who is staring at him apprehensively. Wordlessly, John leans forward, his lips meeting Sherlock’s in a gentle kiss. For a couple of seconds, Sherlock sits motionless and John can feel his panic, but then his lips soften and he leans in and the kiss becomes something amazing. John’s hand comes up, his fingers tangling in Sherlock’s curls as he deepens the kiss and Sherlock lets out a little whimper. John breaks the kiss and looks at him.

“Are you okay?”

Sherlock nods.

“That was even better than I imagined.” Sherlock gives John a goofy grin and John feels a swell of love for him.

“It seems to me that you have quite a few ideas for what we can do next,” John says, leaning in to kiss Sherlock’s nose. “Why don’t we go to my room and you can show me a few.”

“Are you sure?” Sherlock asks, studying John’s face.

“Very.” John reaches out, stroking Sherlock’s cheek. “I love you. I know you haven’t heard that enough in your life, but I’m going to change that, so get used to it.”

John was a bit nervous to say those words out loud, but the effect on Sherlock is electrifying. His eyes go wide and defenseless and John can see his emotions written on his face. He looks slightly overwhelmed, but happier than John has ever seen him and John is determined to protect and cherish this man. He leans in close to Sherlock and whispers in his ear.

“I love you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock shivers, then pulls back, smiling at John and staring at him in wonder.

Sherlock leans in, kissing John again and John thinks he really could get used to doing this. He smiles against Sherlock’s lips and Sherlock pulls back, looking at him.

“What? Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because I’m happy. I’m here with you, holding you, kissing you. This is everything I wanted and you just gave it to me. Thank you.”

“It’s what I wanted too,” Sherlock says, smiling shyly. He reaches out and takes John’s hand. “Did you mean what you said about going upstairs?”

John laughs.

“If that’s what you want, then yes.” He looks at Sherlock, his expression going serious. “But if you aren’t ready, if you want to wait, I’m very okay with cuddling and kissing on the couch. We won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“I can’t promise it’ll be any good, but I’d like to try going upstairs.” Sherlock looks nervous, but not doubtful, so John nods.

“Of course it’ll be good. I’m with the man I love and what’s better than that?”

Sherlock snorts.

“You are a hopeless romantic, John,” he says, getting to his feet. He starts walking towards the door, but stops, turning back to look at John. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

John’s breath catches and he presses his lips together, surprised at how emotional he feels. Leave it to Sherlock to surprise him like that. He really does love this man,

“John,” Sherlock says, not even looking back. “There are a few things I’ve read on the site recently that I’m curious to try. Maybe we can read a few of the stories together later and test them out?”

“Why not,” John says, chuckling.

He gets the idea that his not boring life just got a lot more exciting and he can’t help but grin as he races up the stairs after Sherlock.

\---------------

Three months later, John is sitting at his desk updating his blog. He and Sherlock have just finished an international smuggling case and John wants to get it up as quickly as possible.

“John?” Sherlock calls and John can hear him coming down the stairs from their bedroom.

“In the sitting room.”

“Could you read this over for me?” Sherlock is carrying his laptop and he walks over, putting it down next to John’s.

“You finished it? That was fast.”

“About ten minutes ago. It’s not that long, really. I only did a 221B. Could I get your opinion?”

“I’m never going to get over that,” John says, shaking his head. “Only our fans would write a story connected to our address. It’s kind of cool, really.”

Sherlock is standing there, looking at John expectantly and John laughs.

“Sorry. Of course I’ll read it.”

He pushes his laptop to the side and pulls Sherlock’s closer so he can see the screen better and he feels Sherlock standing anxiously behind him.

_Sherlock looks down at John, watching him sleep, studying the way the light through the window paints patterns on his face and hair. John’s breathing is even, soft little puffs out his nose, as his chest rises and falls with every exhalation. John shifts slightly in his sleep, pulling the sheet down to expose his chest and Sherlock fights the urge to kiss his stomach._

_Sherlock can still taste John on his lips, feel him against his skin, and he wishes he could quantify what he’s feeling. Emotions are new to him, they’ve always been a burden, a weakness he refused to allow. But John has taught him otherwise. He realizes that rather than crippling Sherlock, their love has pulled them together, bound them in a strength that fortifies them both. Sherlock no longer has to deal with things alone, adrift and afraid. He has John to hold him up and stand by his side. And Sherlock is the one to pull John close and fight away his nightmares, though they seem to come less and less these days._

_Sherlock loves John with all his heart and in that love he finds absolution and acceptance as he never thought he could. As he curls up next to John, wrapping his arms around him, he knows he’s found his soulmate and benedict._

John frowns, looking up at Sherlock.

“His what?”

“Which part?” Sherlock asks, leaning forward.

“His soulmate and his who?”

“It’s a real word, John. It means betrothed or husband.”

“You do realize you’ll have to explain that, don’t you? No one is going to get it.” It takes a minute for what Sherlock said to sink in. “Wait a minute. Husband? Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

Sherlock smiles.

“It’s just a story, John.”

“Like hell it is. I know this is how you work your emotions out. Which isn’t a complaint, by the way,” John adds when Sherlock frowns. “This is much better than shooting the wall or sulking. So, what exactly are you saying here?”

Sherlock sighs.

“Just what it says. I love you and you’ve made me see that it’s not a weakness to acknowledge that. You make me better than I am and you make me happy and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.”

“Sherlock, are you proposing?” John stares at him with wide eyes.

“Of course not,” Sherlock says, waving his hand dismissively. “At least not yet. We’ve only been together for three months and that might be a bit fast to start planning a wedding. Isn’t it?”

Sherlock is frowning and John laughs, pulling him down for a kiss.

“We can wait on the wedding, love, but you are going to have to fix this story. As your official beta reader, I just can’t let you post it like this.”

“Fine,” Sherlock says, huffing. He turns his laptop to face him and starts typing. It takes him less than a minute before he turns the screen back to John. “Better?”

_Sherlock loves John with all his heart and in that love he finds absolution and acceptance as he never thought he could. As he curls up wrapping his arms around John, he knows he’s found his soulmate and will never be bored._

John can’t help but laugh, and he feels such love for the crazy man who shares his life.

“That bad?” Sherlock asks.

“No, perfect,” John says, smiling. “From you, this is the ultimate compliment and I’m honored that you feel that way.”

“Really?” Sherlock is looking at him suspiciously.

“Really.”

Sherlock smiles and John just wants to kiss him again. He tips his head and looks at Sherlock.

“I can write this up later. Why don’t you go post that and I’ll meet you upstairs. We can read a couple of stories and you can show me how not bored you are?”

Sherlock’s whole face lights up and he grabs his laptop and heads for the door. He stops and looks back.

“John?”

“Hm?”

“I do love you, you know.”

“Of course I do. I just read how you feel. And I hope you know that I love you too.”

“I do,” Sherlock says, nodding. “But it might make me feel it a bit more if you hurried. I really hate being away from you.”

“On my way,” John says, laughing and closing his laptop.

He gets up, following Sherlock, thinking that he’s never been happier in his life.


End file.
